


The Dark of the Night

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-01
Updated: 2005-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-19 10:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12408786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: She hates lying, hates cheating, but no matter what she does, she can\\'t stop. In the dark of the night, she runs to him. [LxJxS]





	The Dark of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

It’s dark outside. The stars are out. The half moon is high overhead. You're wide awake. Slowly, as not to wake him, you roll quietly out of bed. The air is cold on your bare skin. You stand up, pulling on clothes, making your way to the door of his room. Hesitating, you turn back, and walk to his trunk. Opening it ever so slowly, you take the thick piece of parchment sitting on top. Closing the trunk, you grimace as the lid falls shut with a thud. He stirs. You freeze. Mumbling your name, he rolls over and hugs his pillow, the sheets twisted around his toned, naked body. You stay for moment, if only to admire him. He's best this way, you think. The way he should be all the time. Too busy dreaming to make appearances. To busy being happy to care. The way he used to be. Before you, you think. The way he was before you stepped into his life.

He’s not that way anymore, you think sadly. Stepping over to him, you kiss him lightly on the forehead. _I love you_ , you think as your lips touch his bronze skin, _And I’m sorry_. 

And you are. You’re sorry for everything, but you can’t stop.

Tearing your eyes off him, you walk quickly out of the room. Walking down the stairs, you leave the Heads’ dorms and, consulting the map, take the best route to your old tower. Arriving at the Fat Lady, you wake her up and say the password. _Mistletoe_ , you whisper. She mutters incoherantly and lets you in. 

Checking for stray Gryffindors, your emerald eyes dart quickly around the room. It’s empty. Sighing in relief, you move quietly up the stairs and make your way to the boys’ dorm. Slipping soundlessly into the room, you find his bed.

And there he is. Your breath catches in your throat. He’s beautiful. Sitting on the edge of his bed, hangings pulled back, he’s waiting for you.

You walk to him, straight into his waiting arms. He pulls you in, closing the scarlet hangings around you. You lean in for a kiss, he obliges. Shrugging off your dressing gown, you fall back against his bed, pulling him with you. As he deepens the kiss, you pull his shirt off. As his hands roam your body, your shirt comes off too. When he moves down your jaw to kiss your neck, your shoulders, your collarbone, he pulls off your pajama bottoms. As your small, pale hands get tangled in his shaggy, impossibly-silky hair, you push his shorts off with your feet.

And then you’re naked, and so is he. Soon you’re dancing together, in and out, man over woman. Your lips are in a battle against his, fighting for dominance. As his hips thrust onto yours, you swivel to meet his. You dig your nails into his shoulders, moaning as you get close to release. Your bodies are glistening with sweat, hair tangled, eyes locked.

And then the pleasure comes. You scream as it takes over your body, barely registering his guttural groans as his release follows yours. He collapses onto you, his sweat mixing with your own. Rolling over, he takes you with him, holding you in the crook of his arms. You bury your face in his neck as he strokes your tangled red curls. 

Pulling your head back, you look into his eyes, locking green to grey. Then you lean up, and kiss him softly, so softly he isn’t sure if you’re really kissing him at all. You lean your cheek against his, your breath hot in his ear.

“You were with him before you came here,”� he says. It isn’t a question.

“Yes,”� you whisper softly, sadly. You feel rather than see him nod.

“I love you, Lily,”� he murmurs, like he always does. He means it, you know he does. Deep down you wish he didn’t, things would be better if he didn’t.

“I love you, too, Sirius,”� you say back. He sighs happily, and weaving his hand into your tousled locks. 

You mean it too. You wish you didn’t. You wish you didn’t love him, wish he’d never kissed you that day in the Common Room, wish you’d never agreed to meet him in the Room of Requirements, wish you’d quit sneaking off to his room in the dark of the night, wish you’d stop cheating on the love of your life.

It’d be easier if you didn’t love them both, but you do. You love both of them, with their dark hair and sculpted bodies. You love their arrogance, their charm, their love for you.

You were his first. He loved you first. He loved you all along. Him, with his hazel eyes and untamable hair. He loved you so much he fought with you, just to talk to you. He loved you so much he was willing to give up everything for you. Loved you so much he often bit back his tongue and swallowed words whenever you yelled at him. Held back harsh words for fear of you leaving him. 

In the end, it’s why you cheat. You hate to think of it that way; _cheating_. But it’s what you do. You always dreamed of a torrid love. A painful, heartbreaking romance, full of passion and angst.

He never yells at you anymore. Never fights with you. Never calls you a bitch when you call him bastard. He refuses to fight, for he doesn’t want to lose you, but doesn’t realize how far he’s pushing you away.

As you lay next to his best friend, with your hand on his chest, limbs tangled with his, you promise yourself this is the last time. You love him, with his Quidditch excellence and top Transfiguration marks. Love him, with the silver rimmed glasses. You won’t cheat on him anymore, you promise. You tell the boy next to you, and you swear no more. I know, he says, for you say this every time. It’ll never be the last time though, for you can’t stop. No matter what you do, it’ll never be over. You’re addicted to him, no matter how hard you try. In the dark of the night, it’s he you’ll run to. 

He you’ll come find.


End file.
